corvette 0813
by Ferdinand with Flowers
Summary: pomade and wax in your hair, cuffs on your pants, sleeves that are already rolled up and converses the color of the sky. yup, you don't like people much, do you? ///Roxas/Marluxia & Roxas/Axel///
1. bananafish

You know what I hate? I hate it when the godforsaken bell rings, and everyone is climbing over everyone else on their merry little way to get home. Feet bounce and shoulders bump against each other, and goddamit if people ignore if your shoes are new or if your shoulders are sore. I have to fight, some five-foot-five little guy against throngs of people, to get to some place that I hate with a passion.

So here I am, in the middle of some stupidass courtyard, watching face after face of snotnosed brats saunter by with groups of closely knit friends following after them.

The reason I was there, the reason I was standing there by myself so forlornly while people walked by with odd stares plastered to their plastic faces, was because one of my friends had requested to meet me here. God, it's already been three minutes, three fuckin minutes I coulda been using traveling the two and a half miles home. I live far from home, about two miles give or take, from this school that I can call my second home. Or you can call it a hell away from home since there's nothing here but frustration.

Five minutes already, and the courtyard is receding in its population. God, but, I'm getting nervous, so what I have to do is, I adjust the collar of my black bowling shirt to stop myself from leaving. You don't know how bad I want to leave, groups of teenagers are starting to stare at me, and I'm scared shitless that someone is going to come over and talk to me. I hate talking, to tell the truth, cause it's hard for me to keep up with words and shit.

I'm not saying I'm special or slow or anything, if that's what your thinking, I just have trouble keeping up with the conversation.

I can't leave, in case you wanted to know, cause I only have two friends in this entire school. Well, I had two friends; Axel dropped out of school, and I hold Marluxia in high regards since he tries so hard to get me into bed, so I have only one friend now. I always let Marluxia tease me with his corny sex jokes and lure me in with his advances, but I always pull out in the last minute just to tease him back.

Since Marluxia is my only friend and all in this Godforsaken school, I'm pretty much obliged to wait around for him when he calls me.

* * *

Oh Fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Some brown haired ditz is walking up to me. She removes herself from a group, whose eyes are goring into my forehead like if there's a fucking bull's-eye stabled to my forehead, while she walks, round hips swaying left to right in beige colored pants and hands resting in both pockets, up to me. I'm pretending not to notice her from the corner of my shades, trying to find some way to escape this encounter. But it's too late, I accidentally look at her on my search of an escape route, and she smiles at me with her green eyes.

I find an escape route on time, the dreaded gates that Dante himself had written about, but I just _had_ to smile back at her.

"What's your name?" she says when she's besides me, and here I wanted to slap her so bad. I hate it when ditzy girls that you don't even know come up to you and ask you for your name instead of actually introducing themselves. At least say 'hi' or 'hello' or 'I'm a banana from outer space, and I'm going to suck out your brain,' instead of asking such a ditzy question. I shrugged, a deer stuck in headlights, as my eyes study the peeling yellow gates through my pair of knock-off Raybands

She frowns a little, but eventually a smile plays on her pretty pink lips. She's a ditz, but goddamit, if she ain't pretty.

"Well, I'm Olette, and I came over because you seem kinda lonely," The words roll off her tongue eloquently, and I suddenly hated her for her natural talent of speech. She held out a friendly hand, but being the rude bastard I was, I just stared at it. There was a brief, awkward second, that you could tell was killing the both of us, before her hand recoiled, and she brought it to her mouth to cough into it uncomfortably.

"Are you waiting for someone?" Her eyes are starting to cloud over with a feeling that I sure as hell can't name, and I still don't know why she wants to talk to me. I mumbled a swift 'no,' and told her that I had to leave already. She frowns, and you could tell she regrets talking to me.

"Well, over there," she points to the little group of two boys that she had separated herself from. They waved back from one of those cheap plastic lacquered tables that hurt when you sit on them for too long, and she waved back at them. I just stared.

"Are Pence and Hayner, and you are?" she slumped her shoulders forward, and her face comes close to mine. I smell cheap perfume masking the musk of summer rot as I sigh, and wonder if I should make up some sort of name. God, though, her green eyes hypnotize me into telling the truth.

"Roxas," and she smiles prettily, evidently happy that she at least got a name.

"Well, Rockas," I had cringed inwardly and regretted it so badly that I had told her my name. Word of advice, never give a ditz your name. It doesn't matter if they talk so eloquently; they always find a way to fuck up the pronunciation, and I wasn't in the particular mood to correct her, "Our little group always hangs around the multi-purpose room. If you're ever in the neighborhood, come talk to us."

She takes her hands from out of her pockets, and places them behind her back in a cute pose. I nod and thanked her, then I rushed towards the gates of Dante, without saying goodbye. I forgot about Marluxia, since, because of my ordeal, I had to leave.

I mean, once you say to someone you have to leave in a haste, and you say it to their face and all, then you have to hold out on your promise.

Gods, but, I'm such a rude piece of shit. Even though she seemed like a total ditz, she at least seemed like a nice one. Taking her time to come up and check up on me and all. Fuck, but I feel guilty now.

Who knows where I could have gone with her and her little entourage?

"I like your glasses!" I didn't look back to see if she said it with some sincerity or scrutiny, so I just waved back a little, and walked a little faster.

Then again, I could be wrong.

* * *

**a shameful parody of, a bad adaptation of, influenced by**, _The Cacther in the Rye_

disclaimer  
and  
concrit greatly appreciated


	2. for esmé

Dante's gate isn't too far off, and of course I'm feeling so fucking stupid with the whole world staring and shit. But what I do is, I walk with this cool, nonchalant slouch that the whole goddamn world is freakin jealous of. You can see it in then their eyes, you really can.

The gate is actually three areas in a large canto of Hell, Purgatory, and the stepping stones leading to Heaven. Oh God. I'm so desperate to get out of here, that I'm making fucking allusions to some dead ass poet. Advice; don't take stock of dead people. Oh, God, now I'm quoting Twain.

Let me make this short for you if you're that brain dead, there's a garden of cement sandwiched in between two gates, one leading into the garden, the other leading out.

Very important, the garden of cement is just exactly that. Well, it's… let me think here. It's more of a mini-hallway connecting the library, the attendance building, and the outside world, and, well, there's plants that some lame-assed landscaper thought would look good if they actually grew out of the cracks of the cement. That same asshole also thought the garden would look good if he tossed in some shittyass fountain of some coralloid-little mermaid rip-off, and some boulders that _weren't _supposed to be used for recreation, but some punks sit down on it any ways.

If it's one thing I can't stand, it's people who break the fucking rules and yell 'anarchy,' in a retarded-ass voice. God, but, it gets on your nerves sometimes. I mean, goddamit, you have so much freedom in this fuckin world, and to push the boundary that some people aren't even lucky enough to have, is just disgusting. It just about pisses me off. Word of advice; if you see someone wearing an anarchy shirt, do me a favor and slap them. Slap the shit out of them. Most likely they're some whiney fags who depend on daddy's cummoney and who have no idea what real anarchy is. Being sheltered and shit, following something they think is real and they can rally on about.

* * *

So here I am, walking the burning floors of purgatory, when chance upon chance, I meet the Queen of the Bitchez herself. She's sitting on one of the boulders, long pretty legs crossed and exposed by a pair of those slutty daisy dukes, and someone didn't lie when they sang that hips don't lie. She's wearing one of those tight, silk T-shirts, with the logo of a cartoon character printed right in the middle of the blue material. Sinking right in the middle of her big hooters. Oh, but, God, does that shirt bring out her big tits.

I'm trying not to stare at her, to walk faster out of here, cause that bitch will fuck you up, weather you wanted her ass or not. I'm staring at the peeling gates of Heaven, when the bitch speaks up.

"Roxas, is that you?" Of course, this wouldn't be Purgatory without some form of punishment. Jeesus, no matter how far you push it, you can't skip fate. No matter what the fuckin Easter bunny says. Of course, now I had to stop, courtesy and all. So's I turned my head at her general direction, and sneer through my shades. IF there's one thing I know, I know how to talk to girls like _her_.

But Larxene just smiles through thinning feral lips, blue eyes you can just about drown in, and if there's one thing I'll have to ever respect about Larxene, (the only thing, and goddamit if I'll ever tell her, I'd sooner drop dead) is the fact that she doesn't wear makeup. She doesn't need it, she's all natural, but goddamit if she's ugly on the inside.

She smiled as I came up to her, glides her hands over head and sweeps it back down the live-wired sparks of her slicked blond hair. She's a bitch, a slut, and she's butch. If I wasn't so queer, I'd have been a sexy sonuvabitch to her. I'm not even kidding.

"Roxy, bitch, how's are ya?" She thinks I'm one of her girls, or something. I mean, I don't even remotely look like a chick. At least, I hope I don't look like a girl. I roll my eyes, glad as hell she can't see anything under my shades.

"Hey, what have I told you about calling me that? Stop calling me that, yeah?" I don't really mind if she calls me a bitch, but sometimes it gets stuck in head, and you really get to thinking that you really are a bitch. I really don't want to end up some kind of pervy bitch. I mean, really.

* * *

Larxene stares at me as she lick her lips, oh, God, but if I can help it sometimes. "How's life as Marluxia's boy toy? Huhz, must be tons of fun for ya."

She's purring, stretching out her long body in a sexy pose on that damn rock.

"He's lucky to have such a sweet young thang, such a piece of ass, such as yourself," I'm fucking drowning in her blue eyes. I'm standing erect, sweating in hot Californiaian summer-sunlight, cause, God, if I ain't scared of her.

The only problem is, I know she's not really into me. I'm pretty ugly, if you want to know the truth. Sure, I have blue eyes, and blond hair, and those traits just about drive girls crazy, but I'm pretty short. And I have a pretty lousy personality. I mean, personality pretty much makes a dude. You can have the world's most ugliest dude, but if he has the greatest personality, is charismatic and shit, then the girls would be all over him. I'm not saying I want to be swimming in an ocean of girls, more like I'd rather have a nice personality. God, I'd kill for the personality Marluxia had.

"If he's not careful, this young tigress will steal his prey."

I know she doesn't really want me. She has this weird rivalry with Marluxia, that no one can really stem the truth from. I mean, they're nice to each, and they eat lunch together whenever they can, and they claim that they're the best of friends, but most people who hang out with them when they're together and all, will tell you there's something fishy about their relationship. There's a rumor that's been going around for the longest that they once slept together, and Marluxia actually _liked_ it. What was even weirder, what I thought was kinda weird, was the rumor that claimed that Larxene had raped Marluxia, with a _dildo. _A dildo for Godsakes. And he liked that too. Course, I don't trust rumors.

* * *

"Cut the crap, what do you want?" I drown out of her eyes, and I'm suffocating on the ground. My tone gets pretty prissy when I want to avoid someone, and if some kind of moral keeps around. Larxene frowns, like if she's actually hurt, but her feral lips jumpstart back to life.

"I was watching that little scene hurtling towards the sun, ands I've been wondering, where you waiting for someone?" She looks away from me, she looks towards heaven's gate, and God I wanted to bolt.

"Yeah, I think Marluxia wanted to talk to me, or something."

"Is that so?" I nodded my head, and dig my hands through the pockets of my blue levis. I take out this note I had gotten sixth period, marked 'meet me at the courtyard.' I handed it to her, she took it, and looked at it like if it was some sort of joke that only she knew about.

"Who do you think sent you this?" she folded it into a square, and holds it up her lips, making it out to look like it was cigarette.

"Marluxia, who else would it have been?' to tell the truth, I have no idea who sent the note. All I know is some ratty-faced girl came in with a whole grip of them to give to the teach, and I had to walk up and get it from the teacher when he said it was for me. Everyone's eyes were one me, and God, don't you just hate it when other people's eyes can't seem to mind their own business?

"Can I have that back, yeah? Please?" I'm reaching out, like if I'm going to grab it, but Larxene's eyes float upwards as she starts to kiss the folded note.

"Hate to break it to ya, but Marluxia is AWOL," She's not staring at me. Then, what she does, is she flicks the note so that it hits my forehead. I have to practically bend down to get it, muttering curses under my breath.

And you know what happened next? As I'm bending down to get the note, my glasses fall off the bridge of my nose, and they fall right onto a small jaggedy rock and all. But, God, if I wasn't pissed after sucking up my pride and picking up both the note and the glasses, then I was crazy after I saw the scratches on the left lenses. Fuck, man, I'm a klutz.

* * *

Evidently, Larxene found it funny, all I hear is her giggling and all. I quickly put on my shades, while putting the note back into my pocket, as I stare into her blue eyes like if nothing had happened.

"How's Axel?" God, but now I'm flustered. Don't ever mention The word 'Axel,' and 'Larxene,' in the same sentence. Or, don't ever let your Larxene say the word Axel.

"I don't know, I haven't seen him in the last fuckin month!" God, was I mad. But Larxene just smiles as her eyes look skyward.

"I think I know who sent you that note."

* * *

(Salinger would turn around in his grave two pence for this story. God, but, he'd kill me as a zombie)

disclaimer  
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concrit greatly appreciated


	3. war with the eskimos

So I'm standing there, in the fucking heat of the cement garden, trying to wait like a cool cat for whatever the Hell Larxene's gonna mutter. She likes playing this game, as her eyes penetrate the sky and while her arms cradle the twins.

"Well?" I asks because I want to get the Hells outta there. Larxene finally breaks concentration with mother sky, to look into my shades. There's a predatory grin on her lips.

"Where'd ya get the shades?" boy do I got it bad with her. She's like the fucking Cheshire cat, playing me like her dinner. I've had enough of her shit.

"I gots the pot begging to be roasted at home," I roll my eyes underneath my shades, It goes against my philosophy to do drugs. I stick my hands into my pockets, hoping she won't catch my white lie, "Every second wasted with you is a second I could be out getting high."

She licks her lips, real sexy like.

"That's a fucking lie, Marluxia told me about your 'goody-toe shoes' stance against drugs." She bats her eyes, all pretty like. Then she puts her left hand over her heart, all theatrical.

"He thought it was annoying, saying shit like 'fuck, I can't even drug him up,' and how he can't take advantage of you," She looks down at me, getting ready for the kill, "Me, I thought it was precious."

Larxene starts smacking her lips, hoping to get my attention. But of course, I'm not like her regular prey, so I don't get the warning signals to the groin all them other boys get, but I start to sweat like a madman. Seeing no effects to her classic lip smuckering, she starts juggling up and down on her stone throne, getting to try me to be all up in her twins.

* * *

The cartoon character on her shirt is smiling as it ripples in a dance. Fuck man, that's _not_ at all sexy

* * *

"I have dreams of ya, Roxy," there's still that fucking grin, "dressed in a maid's outfit, and begging me to finger your cunt."

And that's that. I turn around, cause I was starting to get hella red, hella embarrassed. I walk towards the gates, glad she lets me leave. But when I'm at the gates, I hear her voice again.

"I like your walk Roxy. I like the way your ass smacks together in them tight jeans."

Boy, do I streamline it outta there. I don't even stop or anything, hoping she doesn't utter one more single word.

"I know you're a guy and you're a gay, but come back to me! You'd still make one hellave bitch to own!"

* * *

You know that feeling you get, when you start a match and watch how it incinerates the whole house with ease? You know that warm feeling of freedom you feel when the fire eats everything in sight, and you hope and pray that it eats up all your troubles away?

Well, if you feel that way, then you are certainly one psycho sonuvabitch. Or Axel. His favorite hobby was always setting things on fire. Plants. Houses. Rats. Hobos. Chihuahuas.

Yeah. You see, the reason I was talking about Axel was, well, his Red corvette was parked on the driving lot.

I can see it from my place atop the Stone Stairs Leading Nowhere.

And, I can see him on the hood, smoking a cig and trying to be cool.

There's warning signals in my groin, and that fucker knows how to turn me on.

Ah, my fucking faggot.

How I've missed him so.

* * *

(No witty comment this chapter)  
disclaimer  
and  
concrit greatly appreciated.


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